Mar 2020
Got to sleep in a old holler log
With my rifle, my pipe and my dog.
As you city-folk know,
She's a hard row to ***;
Dang Corona done slaughtered ma hog.
With my rifle, my pipe and my dog.
As you city-folk know,
She's a hard row to ***;
Dang Corona done slaughtered ma hog.
Hey there y’all.
Jest thought I would tell you what I been up to during this old LOCKDOWN by the dang federals and globalists and teknocrats. Due to Satan, China, and George Soros inflicting this scourge upon our beloved nation, I done had to stay hunkered down in muh cabin with muh fambly. CHINESE Chest Cold all it is, and I don’t care what the One World Guvermint says, I AINT EATIN’ no BATS. **** ****** Chinese need JESUS I’ll tell you that. Now whar wuz I? Oh yeah:
We pretty much been prayin’ non-stop to the Lord, readin’ our Bibles and listenin’ to daddy Donald on the short-wave television. He shore is smart and we thank God Almighty for him AND his wife what’s-her-name. (She’s real pretty—for a Yuropean that is . . .) And lucky for us he come up with a good plan to help us all overcome this great tribulation of the Last Days, amen. Presidint Trump is going to take that old W.H.O. down a peg or two. And all them thankless adversaries runnin’ their jaws a-complainin’ all day long kin go figger. Anyway, we sit around a lot . . . muh wife bakes some cornpone . . . we fry a little bacon any old time. Muh kids play and squabble and ask to borry muh tablet (y’all know how it is) but I cain’t say it’s been easy. I have touched a drop (well perhaps a half jug) of corn likker, and although I am shamed to say, I have done beat muh dear wife somewhat (but never in front of the little ones and only when she sassed me).
Well, the good news from all these trials and tribulations is:
National Poetry Writing Month is comin’ along real SOON in April! You might not have thunk a ol’ deeplorable hillbilly like me would appreciate POETRY now would you? I hope the president can *** everthang on track for all of us soon and we kin all *** back to writin’ POEMS in the springtime.
And after the summer gits over we can drag our ol’ knuckles over to the votin’ station and cast our ballots, yes siree.
So that’s how it been here in Hickry Holler tryin’ (as the city slickers and federal agents like to call it) SOCIALLY DISTANCEing our pore selfs from everthang. I hope you folks is doin’ rightly and see you soon Lord willing.
Jest thought I would tell you what I been up to during this old LOCKDOWN by the dang federals and globalists and teknocrats. Due to Satan, China, and George Soros inflicting this scourge upon our beloved nation, I done had to stay hunkered down in muh cabin with muh fambly. CHINESE Chest Cold all it is, and I don’t care what the One World Guvermint says, I AINT EATIN’ no BATS. **** ****** Chinese need JESUS I’ll tell you that. Now whar wuz I? Oh yeah:
We pretty much been prayin’ non-stop to the Lord, readin’ our Bibles and listenin’ to daddy Donald on the short-wave television. He shore is smart and we thank God Almighty for him AND his wife what’s-her-name. (She’s real pretty—for a Yuropean that is . . .) And lucky for us he come up with a good plan to help us all overcome this great tribulation of the Last Days, amen. Presidint Trump is going to take that old W.H.O. down a peg or two. And all them thankless adversaries runnin’ their jaws a-complainin’ all day long kin go figger. Anyway, we sit around a lot . . . muh wife bakes some cornpone . . . we fry a little bacon any old time. Muh kids play and squabble and ask to borry muh tablet (y’all know how it is) but I cain’t say it’s been easy. I have touched a drop (well perhaps a half jug) of corn likker, and although I am shamed to say, I have done beat muh dear wife somewhat (but never in front of the little ones and only when she sassed me).
Well, the good news from all these trials and tribulations is:
National Poetry Writing Month is comin’ along real SOON in April! You might not have thunk a ol’ deeplorable hillbilly like me would appreciate POETRY now would you? I hope the president can *** everthang on track for all of us soon and we kin all *** back to writin’ POEMS in the springtime.
And after the summer gits over we can drag our ol’ knuckles over to the votin’ station and cast our ballots, yes siree.
So that’s how it been here in Hickry Holler tryin’ (as the city slickers and federal agents like to call it) SOCIALLY DISTANCEing our pore selfs from everthang. I hope you folks is doin’ rightly and see you soon Lord willing.
